


Happy Birthday, Mr Tesla

by HostilePoet17



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 02:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7462461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostilePoet17/pseuds/HostilePoet17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after the destruction of the Old City Sanctuary, some of its former residents find cause to celebrate...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Mr Tesla

**Author's Note:**

> AH, so I totally forgot to go on my laptop and post this up yesterday, for the 10th. While yesterday was Tesla's 160th birthday, this is set a few years ago, following Sanctuary for None.
> 
> This isn't within the canon of any of my Sanctuary plots (there are a bazillion to be eventually written), just something cute and Teslen-y.
> 
> Unbeta'd, if there are any issues, let me know!
> 
> PS, I will totally start updating Unsinkable soon, I'm just home after my internship and have been catching up on some reading! :)
> 
> ENJOY!

Nikola sighed, staring out his window at the idyllic gardens below. It was all so… perfect. And manicured. So _boring_. Setting up camp in Hollow Earth was swell and all, but it all had that creepy artificial edge, like a futuristic Garden of Eden, where, god forbid, they’d eat an apple and stir things up a little.

And to add insult to injury, not a single pigeon lived in the deep belly of the Earth. Which was frankly absurd. How could he expected to deal with the absence of such a magnificent creature?

Letting the curtain fall shut, he turned away from the expansive window, trying not to let his mind wander to beautiful Serbian landscapes. That would imply he was homesick, or the like. And he simply couldn’t bear for anyone to make such an assumption. Hell no. Flopping back on his bed, he absentmindedly fiddled with a button on his waistcoat. Of course, one may be tempted to feel pangs of homesickness on such a day as this, but Nikola wasn’t one of those people. Never.

And yet, here he was. Lying on his bed, pondering the presence of pigeons, and resolutely ignoring the call of verdant mountains and rich accents. That unpleasant wave of loneliness, one he had become all too familiar with in the wake of 1947 in his days of self-imposed isolation, was rolling through his stomach, and oh, how he loathed it. God, it was so pitiful, so damned _ordinary_ to feel lonely. It was pathetic, he was Nikola Tesla, damn it!

A knock at the door pulled him out of his miserable tirade, and he glanced over at it, sighing anew. Probably one of those kids of Helen’s come to bother him with some useless issue. Good god, how did she cope with them? Although, he conceded, getting to his feet, young Heinrich wasn’t as much a pain as the rest. In fact, he was shaping up to be an almost competent lab assistant. And the mouthy one was tolerable, he appreciated a bit of fire in a person. He could see why Helen had kept her on. But as for the walking carpet and Dr Expendable, he could do without dealing with them all the time.

Grimacing in irritation, he flung the door open. “What, oh what, is so important that you must—”

Helen gave him a bemused smile. “Am I disturbing you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Shall I come back at another time?”

He felt a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. “That depends.”

“On?”

“If that bottle of wine in your hand is for me?”

She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him playfully. “And if it isn’t?”

“Then we have a problem,” he murmured.

Helen chuckled, raising the bottle up and giving it a little shake. “The ’92 Lafite.”

“Oh, how you spoil me. I must have done something right.” He stepped back, gesturing for her to enter to room. “Now, what are you hiding in your other hand?”

“I beg your pardon?” She asked, the picture of innocence.

“Come off it, Helen. I can see you holding something behind your back. What is it?”

She smiled at him. “Close the door, and I’ll show you.”

“Were sweeter words ever spoken?” He replied, complying.

Rolling her eyes, she set the bottle down on his bedside locker. “Oh, damn. I forgot the bloody glasses,” she frowned, looking around the room to see if any were laying around (hardly a rare feature in his bedroom).

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve drank straight from the bottle, you know. Ah, those blissful days of vino and recklessness back at Oxford.”

She snorted. “You say that as though you’ve changed those habits at all.”

“Fancy climbing into bed with me and the bottle, Helen? It’d be _just_ like Oxford.”

This prompted another eye-roll. “Honestly, you’re incorrigible.” But the comment was softened with a smile. “Come on, sit down for a moment.”

Nikola sank down on the bed, watching her expectantly. “Ah yes, the surprise. A surprise that brings you into my bedroom, with a bottle of wine, and looking rather ravishing, I might add,” he grinned, teeth glinting even in the dim light of the room.

Shaking her head with a smile, she moved her hand from behind her back, raising its contents for him to see.

A large chocolate-chip muffin sat in her hand, with a single, unlit candle protruding from its centre.

“Happy birthday, Nikola,” she whispered.

He glanced up at her in surprise. “You remembered?”

“Of course, I did. It’s not every day a person turns one-hundred-and-fifty-six.”

“I look pretty great for my age, don’t I?”

Huffing a laugh, she nodded. “Yes, you’re holding up very well.”

“You know, I think you’re missing a few candles there.”

“Really?”

“Hm. Oh, yes. And the fire.”

“The fire?”

“You do realise you’re actually supposed to light the candles, right?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You do realise I was carrying this behind my back, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Don’t worry, Helen. I won’t tell anyone of your egregious mistake.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t,” she winked.

His hand reached out to hers, and she entwined her fingers with his. “It’s my birthday.”

She shot him an amused look. “I am aware, Nikola.”

“And you remembered it.”

Her smile grew. “Yes, I did.”

Nikola tugged her closer, bringing her to sit on the bed beside him. “You know, I was beginning to feel desperately lonely. I was bordering on being pathetic!”

“Is that so?”

“Very much so. But, luckily, I don’t feel quite so lonely anymore. So, thank you.”

Helen gave him a soft, slow smile, and rested her head against his shoulder. “Any time.”

“I miss pigeons. And mountains. And the real sky.”

She glanced up at him. “You’re free to leave whenever you wish, Nikola,” she told him quietly. “I won’t stop you from doing so.”

“I may miss my mother and that darling white pigeon, Helen, but I’ve never felt quite as alone as when I don’t have you.”

“I’m here.”

 “Yes, you are. And note that I will deny to all others that I ever admitted this, but I am extremely grateful for you.”

She squeezed his hand softly, before sitting up and reaching for the wine bottle. “Come on, and we can toast to another glorious one-hundred-and-fifty-six years.”

He grinned, taking the wine bottle and tugging the cork free. “Think you’ll still be around?”

“I bloody well intend to be,” she smiled, accepting the now proffered bottle and drinking from it.

“I hope so,” he replied, taking a sip of his own. “So, I’ve got a bottle of wine, and a rather lovely Helen Magnus in my bed. This is setting up to be one of the better birthdays I’ve had in quite a while.”

She chuckled, her knee nudging his in reproach. “Don’t even start.”

“What?” He smirked. “How can you expect me to resist? You remember the last birthday when you visited my hotel room?”

She frowned in confusion. “What year?”

“Oh, _Helen_. I’m hurt. I was hiding out in Chicago, I believe.”

Suddenly, her cheeks flushed. “Oh, yes, now I remember. Blimey, quite some time ago.”

“And still a fond memory of mine,” he grinned. “Quite a dance number you did for me.”

“After we got pissed on champagne,” she laughed. “Yes, I definitely remember that now.”

“Fancy a re-enactment?” He winked, taking another sip of the wine.

“Why, is the memory not good enough for you, Nikola?”

He gave a chuckle. “Oh, Helen, dear, mere memories pale in comparison to the beautiful present.”

This caused her to give a snort of laughter, her head falling back, resting comfortably against the slope of his shoulder. “You always were a wonder with words, darling.”

“Words, among many other things.”

She laughed again, nodding. “I’ll give you that.”

“I do like my birthdays so much more when you’re in them, you know. The 1920’s were a particularly favourite decade for birthdays of mine. Your gifts grew increasingly creative with each year.”

“Ah, the twenties. God, the fun we had. You remember that brilliant little speakeasy we used to haunt? I loved those adventures so much.” She took the bottle of wine, drinking from it once more.

“We should do it all again,” he said. “Recapture our youth, and all.”

Chuckling, she passed the bottle back to him. “You could grow that hideous moustache again.”

“Oh, now _that_ was uncalled for. You do wound me.”

“Bloody good job you’re immortal then, isn’t it?”

“Hah hah,” he replied drily, swigging from the bottle. He gave an appreciative hum. “You know, Helen, there’s a lot of qualities that you possess which I admire. I’m sure you can guess a few,” he leered playfully. “But I must say, you do have a knack for getting your hands on excellent bottles of vino.”

She raised an eyebrow in askance. “That’s your favourite thing about me? My ability to bring you booze?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Well, that and the charming little mole on—”

“That’s quite enough,” she laughed, cutting him off with an elbow nudged into his side.

“You did ask.”

Helen shook her head ruefully. “Yes, I did. Moving swiftly on! Are you really finding it difficult to live down here?”

He shrugged. “It’s not a problem, Helen. It just got to me today. Perhaps I am getting nostalgic in my old age.”

“Are you happy here?”

“Well, I have my own lab, complete with a partially capable assistant, all the secrets of Hollow Earth at my feet, and Helen Magnus bringing me wine. What possible complaints could I have?”

“Oh, please. You know Henry is more than partially capable, and he wouldn’t look too fondly on being called your assistant. You’ve become something like a mentor to him.”

Nikola spluttered slightly on his gulp of wine, eyes widening as he jerked his head to look down at her. “A _mentor_?”

“He’s really grown to admire you, you know. Ever since you followed him into the Rift, and gave us all of SCIU’s secrets. It’s changed his opinion of you, and I think he quite enjoys having the chance to work with you.”

“But a mentor? Helen, please.”

“You know, you _are_ one of the greatest scientific minds that has ever lived, as you frequently like to remind me. Is it really surprising that he looks up to you?”

“Alright, but if the words ‘father figure’ come out of your mouth, then I will have to throw you out.”

Helen giggled, rolling her eyes. “There is absolutely no fear of that, Nikola.”

“Good to hear,” he replied lightly, passing her the bottle of wine before stretching out on the bed, grinning lazily up at her. “You really don’t want me to leave, do you?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Well, I was under the impression you saw me as little more than an inconvenience to you.”

She frowned. “That’s not true. Only when you’re tangled up in some scheme for world domination.”

“You’ll be pleased to know, then, that I’ve retired from that venture.”

“Oh? May I ask why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You didn’t like it, it bothered you.”

Helen set the bottle down on the locker, moving to lean over him slightly. “Really? That’s all it took?”

“Of course,” he replied, shrugging. “Helen, you’re my dearest friend, did you really think I wanted you to see me as nothing more than a series of disappointments and betrayals?”

She sighed, falling back against the mattress beside him. “That was never how I saw you. But I am glad that you value my opinion so.” She glanced at him, her hand sliding down to clasp his. “Thank you for ceasing your attempts at total world domination. I really don’t like shooting you.”

Nikola laughed, turning his head to meet her twinkling eyes. “Liar.”

Her own smile grew. “Well, alright that was a half-truth. But the sentiment is there.”

“You know, you really missed out on the world domination gig. I would’ve let you be my queen. I’d have even given you your own continent.”

“Oh yes, how very gracious of you.”

“I thought so!”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Clearly I missed out on a very influential position. But planetary take-over plans aside, I’d much rather have you here.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve gotten used to having you around again, it’s quite nice.”

He fixed her with a smug grin. “Oh, Helen, you _like_ me.”

“What?”

“Don’t look so surprised, I see right through you. Why, you’ve developed feelings for me.”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” she replied, looking away.

“Uh huh. So, why, my dear, after doing so for about seventy years, did you stop sleeping with me?”

“Well, regardless of the fact that you were missing for my life for the next sixty years, it’s hardly a wise practice to be falling into bed with one’s best friend.”

That just caused his grin to grow. “Oh please, Helen, that’s a pitiful excuse. Besides, I was never the best friend. James was. I was something so much more than that, something more exciting and dangerous.”

Now she looked at him, eyebrows raised sceptically. “Oh, and what was that?”

He moved onto his side, supporting his weight on his arm, leaning over her slightly. “Your soulmate.”

She couldn’t help smiling in response, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. “Is that so?”

“You don’t want to sleep with me anymore because you’re scared. Ever since Druitt you’ve kept yourself closed off from anybody you could possibly love, and the deepest relationships you’ll make are those of familial bonds, like the kiddies here at your Sanctuary. And I terrify you because you’re scared of falling for someone all over again and being hurt. You’re scared I’ll let you down if you let me in.”

Her grin had fallen away, and she swallowed, eyes still fixed on his. “Is that really what you think?”

“Yes. Of course, if I’m wrong, tell me. And I’ll let the matter drop. I may be incorrect here, Helen.”

“And if you’re right?” She asked in a whisper, not missing the surprise flitting across his features before he schooled them into a gentle smile.

“Then this is definitely my favourite birthday.”

She huffed a laugh, eyes falling shut. “I’d imagine so.”

He rested his cheek in his hand, watching her, still smiling. “If I am right, then you should know that I will never endeavour to hurt you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” she affirmed, with a small smile.

His fingers brushed along the dark curls of her hair that were fanned out between them. “Merely something to consider. Should you give it some thought and find it a reasonable proposal, then I would be happy to oblige you in a further exploration of our relationship. The ball is entirely in your court, Helen. You know how I feel.”

“I do,” she replied softly.

“The question is, my dear, do you know how _you_ feel?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she paused, wetting her lips. She nodded, letting out a shaky sigh. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Well,” he replied slowly, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb and fingers together. “Isn’t that interesting?”

She glanced at the nervous tic, a sure sign of the anxieties bubbling away underneath his otherwise calm exterior, and smiled warmly at him. “You always have known me better than I know myself.”

His mouth stretched into a surprised smile, and his eyes followed the movement of her hand as it reached out to steady his fidgeting hand, resting hers over his against his chest.

“Happy birthday, Nikola,” she whispered, closing the minute gap to press her lips to his.

The kiss was slow, and quite a bit sweeter than the brief farewell she had impressed upon his mouth all those months ago, before sending him from her battle. That had been the first in a while, since the stolen embrace in Rome, and then for quite a while before that, there had been none. For that reason, among many, this particular kiss was to be savoured.

When they eventually parted, Helen still eyed him with that fond smile, enchanting as she had ever been, and would likely always continued to be, even to far-off days when silver crept into her hair, and his past birthdays were long stripped from her memory by the decay of age. He loved her now, and he would love her then. And she would smile beatifically at the man before her (even if his name was no longer within her grasp) through the wrinkles that will one day etch across her face. She had changed infinitesimally since his last birthday, and that served only to remind him that as his birthdays passed, she would age (though slowly, like a glacier inching by stubbornly), and he would not.

He swallowed, pushing the thoughts from his mind, imagining the taste of dread hitting the back of his tongue as he did so. He had long ago sworn not to allow himself to become bothered by the faraway future, to let it taint the here and now. The past was to be savoured and pondered upon, like a good wine. The future was to be rarely considered, bar any thought to what his creations may improve, how he could once more change the world for the better someday. His intentional avoidance of foresight was probably where Helen found issue with a large number of his plans, as he tended not to linger too long on any ill-natured repercussions, but despite this flaw, he still held that his life was going to be far too protracted to be spent on pondering what ill may come. The present should be taken for all it was worth – drink the wine while it is plentiful, don’t waste countless hours bathing or sleeping when one could be working or studying, and when in the company of the love of your life, savour every single moment.

“I think this may be my favourite birthday so far,” he murmured, drawing himself back into the scene, smiling at Helen’s still-dark hair, at her beautiful face that was still glowing with life.

Her smile grew wider, and she squeezed the hand that was still clasped under hers. “I thought as much.”

“You know, I’ve heard of a tradition where you give a person a kiss on their birthday for every year they’ve lived,” he murmured, lips curled up into a grin. “Oh, and an extra one. For luck, of course.”

She smirked, shaking her head. “Of course.”

“And given that we’ve only got another, say, twelve hours left in my birthday, we should probably make a start on that?”

“A very wise decision,” Helen answered, fighting back a laugh.

“I thought so. I am a genius, you know?” His face was inches from hers, his stupid smile mirroring hers.

“So I’ve been told,” she sighed in mock-weariness, leaning in once more to kiss the smile right off of his beautiful smug face.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
